“Perhaps if I were to give its key a little turn?”
“Good idea, Eddie,” said Jack. “You give its key a little turn.”
“You think I should?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Stay put, Jack,” said Eddie, and he plodded slowly about the fallen monkey. Eddie leaned over the monkey and sniffed, then stepped back from the monkey and viewed it, his chin upon his paw. He dropped to his knees and examined the non-speaking carpet, then glanced at the ceiling and grunted.
Jack looked on and watched him. He’d seen Eddie go through this performance before and he’d seen Eddie draw conclusions from such a performance. Significant conclusions.
Eddie climbed to his paw-footed feet and looked up at Jack. “There’s been dirty business here,” he said. “This monkey is certainly as dead as.”
“Murdered?” Jack asked.
“Something more than that.”
“Something more?”
“This monkey is something more than just as dead as.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jack said.
“Nor do I,” said Eddie. “Stand back a little further, Jack, if you will.” And Jack stood back accordingly.
Eddie reached out a paw and lightly touched the monkey.
There was a sound, as of a gentle sigh. And with it the monkey crumbled. Crumbled away to the accompaniment of the whispery sigh. Crumbled away to dust.
Jack looked at Eddie.
And Eddie looked at Jack.
“Now that isn’t right,” said Eddie.
They swept up the dust of the monkey. Well, not so much they as Jack. Well, Jack had hands with opposable thumbs after all. Eddie did hold the dustpan.
“Pour what you can of him into this beer bottle,” said Eddie, fishing one with difficulty from the filing cabinet. “There might be something significant to be learned from the dust.”
“Did you know this monkey?” Jack asked as he tried to do what Eddie wanted.
“Hard to say,” said the bear. “Your cymbal-playing monkey is a classic toy, of course, an all-time favourite, but telling one from the other … I don’t know. There was one called Monkey who was with the circus. He used to drink in Tinto’s, but Tinto threw him out because he was too noisy. I knew another one called Monkey, who was also with the circus, did this act where he played the cymbals and bounced up and down. And –”
“So they all look the same, do the same thing, are all with the circus and are all called Monkey?”
“That’s about the strength of it.” Eddie struggled to cork the beer bottle, then set it down on Bill’s desk.
“I’ve got a lot of Monkey left over,” said Jack.
“Put it in the bin,” said Eddie.
“Shouldn’t we cast it to the four winds, or something?”
Eddie grinned at Jack. “See what a nice fellow you are,” said he. “How caring. What was it you said about toys only being toys?”
“That wasn’t what I said. Or I hope it wasn’t.”
“There’s been dirty work here,” said Eddie. “Strange, dirty work. It would seem that we are already on a case.”
“Oh no.” Jack shook his head. “That’s not how it works and you know it. Someone has to offer us a case. And pay us to take it on. Pay us, Eddie, you know what I’m saying?”
Eddie nodded thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “is that we should ignore the fact that a dead monkey crumbled into dust on the carpet of this office and wait until we get some meathead client to offer us money for finding their lost dog or something?”
“Well, I’m not saying that, exactly.”
“So what are you saying, then?”
Jack gave some thought to an appropriate answer. “I’m saying,” said Jack, “that perhaps we should give this some thought. Perhaps over a drink.”
“At Tinto’s?” said Eddie.
“At Tinto’s,” said Jack.
Eddie took a shower, because Bill’s office owned to a bathroom. And Jack squeezed Eddie dry, which Eddie didn’t enjoy too much, although it made Jack laugh. And Eddie unearthed his old trenchcoat and fedora, and so too did Jack, and so they both now looked like private detectives. And they took themselves down to the garage and, much to their joy, found Bill’s splendid automobile just waiting to take them away.
And so they took themselves away in it, with Jack driving.
As ever, too fast.
It was early yet at Tinto’s, so trade was still slack. Some construction-worker figures with detachable yellow hardhats and gripping hands gripped beer glasses and engaged in theoretical discussions on the good-looks/intelligence dialectic. Eddie had no trouble getting served. “Howdy doody,” said Tinto. “Eddie Bear, come to pay off his tab, by Golliwog. Joy and gladness are mine, to be sure, all praise The Great Engineer.”
“The beers are on Jack,” said Eddie.
“And howdy doody, Jack,” said Tinto.
“Nine beers, please,” said Jack, lowering himself onto a barstool and speaking from between his now raised knees.
“Nine, eh?” said Eddie. “This should be good.”
Tinto poured a number of beers. Eddie disputed this number and Tinto poured more. Then Jack and Eddie got into the thirteen beers.
“Just like the good old days,” said Jack, raising his glass and emptying it down his throat.
“What days were those?” asked Tinto. “I must have missed them.”
“Eddie and I have temporarily renewed our partnership,” said Jack. “And there were great days and will be again.”
“Bravo,” said Eddie, raising his glass carefully between his paws and emptying a fair percentage of the beer into his mouth.
“Enjoy your great days while you can,” said Tinto, taking up Jack’s empty glass and giving it a polish. “The End Times are upon us and they won’t prove to be so great.”
“End Times?” said Jack.
“Don’t get him going on that,” said Eddie.
“Doubter,” said Tinto to Eddie. “If you were of the faith you’d understand.”
“I have my own faith,” said Eddie, struggling with another glass. “I am a member of The Exclusive Brotherhood of the Midnight Growlers.”
“A most exclusive brotherhood,” said Tinto, “as you are the only member.”
“We don’t proselytise,” said Eddie. “You’re either a Growler, or you aren’t.”
“You should join The Church of Mechanology before it’s too late.” Tinto made the sign of the sacred spanner. “Already the prophecies are being fulfilled. Did you see today’s paper?”
Eddie shook his head.
“The faithful are being carried off to glory.” Tinto’s voice rose slightly. “They are being taken up by the big horseshoe magnet in the sky.”
“And that’s in the paper?” Eddie asked. “S.T.C.” said Tinto.
“Ecstasy?” said Eddie.
“S.T.C.” said Tinto. “Spontaneous Toy Combustion.”
Eddie looked at Jack.
And Jack looked at Eddie.
“Go on,” said Eddie.
“The monkeys,” said Tinto. “The clockwork monkeys. All over the city. Last night. They Combusted.”
“All of them?” Eddie looked aghast. He was aghast.
“Puff of smoke,” said Tinto. “All of them gone. All of them. Not that there were that many of them, only about half a dozen. The papers says it was S.T.C., but that’s not the truth of it. Carried off to glory, they were. Transcended their physical bodies.”
Eddie and Jack did mutual lookings at each other once more.
“I may be next,” said Tinto, “so you’d better pay up for these drinks. I want my cash register to balance if I’m going.”
“Now, just hold on, Tinto,” said Eddie. “Are you telling me that all the monkeys – and I am assuming that you mean the cymbal-playing monkeys that bounce up and down?”